“Keep looking at the pictures,” Holtzmann told him. “Go through the whole set. Maybe you’ll think of something once you see what we’re up against.”

Shankari grunted, touched the slate again.

Then Holtzmann reached out, carefully, cautiously, for the boy’s mind, sent a request for a chat connection.

Shankari looked up, his eyes wide in surprise. His mind gave off shock, disbelief. And then he accepted the chat request.

[holtzmann]Make no sign. Keep advancing images.

[rangan]What the fuck?

[holtzmann]I’m here to get you out.

Holtzmann opened himself partially to the boy, showed him his sincerity, his deep desire to see Rangan free.

Rangan tapped the surface of the slate again, then looked down.

[rangan]Why?

[holtzmann]It doesn’t matter. But we have an opening tonight. Can you fake a seizure at 11pm?

[rangan]Yes. What then?

[holtzmann]If it’s convincing enough, you’ll be taken to the nearest hospital. From there some friends will get you free.

[rangan]What about the kids?

[holtzmann]Just you.

Rangan blinked in surprise. Holtzmann felt the boy struggle inside, felt hope and guilt and fear and principle war with one another. Seconds passed. Then he felt Rangan come to a decision.

[rangan]No.

[holtzmann]We may not get another chance.

[rangan]Not without the kids. They come, or I don’t.

Holtzmann groaned inside. He wanted this so badly. He needed to get Rangan out. It was so close, so very close.

[rangan]They’re kids, man. You’re torturing them. It’s fucked up.

Holtzmann closed his eyes. He could fake a medical emergency. There were any number of things he could inject Shankari with that would force a trip to the ER.

[rangan]Goddammit, don’t you have any fucking conscience at all? They’re KIDS.

Holtzmann felt himself slipping further. Images of the children went through his head. Alfonso Gonzales, the one who’d been tortured until he gave up Nexus. Bobby Evans, the one they’d spent four hours torturing before finally giving up…

[rangan]Please. I don’t even have to go. Don’t worry about me. Get at least get one of the kids out instead.

Holtzmann grabbed his slate out of Rangan’s hands, stood up.

[holtzmann]I’ll think about it.

[rangan]Wait, wait. What about Ilya? Kade? Wats?

Holtzmann stared at Shankari. And suddenly he felt so tired, so very tired of all of this.

[holtzmann]Dead. Hunted. Dead.

Shankari dropped his head into his cuffed hands as Holtzmann turned and strode from the room.

Holtzmann sat in the bathroom stall, the lid down over the toilet, fully clothed, and wept. He wept in frustration. He needed to get Rangan out. He had to do it. His whole body was wracked with the need, his palms sweating, his breath coming fast, his skin tingling. Rangan had to be free!